


somewhere ages and ages hence

by cirque



Category: A Series of Unfortunate Events - Lemony Snicket
Genre: Family, Family Reunions, Sneakiness, Uncle-Niece Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-27
Updated: 2018-02-27
Packaged: 2019-03-24 21:27:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13819770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cirque/pseuds/cirque
Summary: She sipped through her straw and tried to behave as though it was any other afternoon, as though nothing was happening at all.





	somewhere ages and ages hence

The small diner in the big city, impeccably stylish, was not too busy that a conversation could not be overheard by someone with keen enough hearing. The young girl swung her feet beneath her chair and tried to listen for anything out of the ordinary, though it was difficult over the tinny music which was playing over the speakers, an earache in G Major. Her hair was neat, her shoelaces tied in a delicate knot, and she waited with a cold tension that betrayed her impatience. 

The ice cream was just the side type of sweet, but even so Beatrice tasted nothing but bitterness as she watched, and worried, and waited, for her uncle to read the note and surreptitiously glance in her direction, finally understanding, and respond at long last. Her position at the far table afforded her very little in the way of looking at him, she could only see his dark pinstriped legs beneath his table, the motionless tilt of his head, dark hair escaping from the brim of his hat. She wanted desperately to see his face. His movements were those of a man aware he was being watched, feet always positioned to run, his breathing measured like a confession. 

It was telling, the way he did not react to her note. No twitch of his head, no sharp intake of breath, no cry of despair for his sister's orphan. Beatrice had expected nothing less; he had been subject to the same niche, abnormal education as her after all, and she had been looking forward to spying the professional at work. He was masterful, passive to an art, utterly and completely indifferent to the sudden, improbable existence of a relative.

Beatrice herself was not so unaffected. Her stomach was tying itself in unnatural knots and the root beer was heavy going down, as if every muscle in her body wanted to run to him at once. She kept her cool though, as she had done all along, ready to follow his lead. She sipped through her straw and tried to behave as though it was any other afternoon, as though nothing was happening at all. 

He hailed the waitress again, and she thought wildly that he might write a return message for her and that they might communicate awkwardly like that for a while, but he only settled his bill with exact cash and a respectable but unremarkable tip, gathered his briefcase and long umbrella, and walked out of her field of view, and out of the diner altogether. 

The door had not even swung closed behind him before she was up on her feet, hurrying through the maze of tables in quite an undignified manner, but she could not stop the hammering of her heart or the clumsy stomping of her feet. She had been patient for so long. She had set this all up with a flair that should have impressed him. The lump in her throat turned unbearable as she stumbled onto the sidewalk and helplessly looked for his retreating form. He was several people ahead of her, walking as though nothing out of the ordinary had occurred. Perhaps he thought her a liar? Or the instigator of a villainous trap? Perhaps he had misunderstood the whole sorry thing. 

She tailed him carefully along several blocks, taking occasional looks through the windswept hair that escaped her bun to confirm that he had not changed his infuriating calm demeanor. The sun beat down onto the overheating sidewalk, but still he did not sweat, or tug at the collar of his buttoned jacket, or give Beatrice even the slightest inclination that any of this bothered him. 

By the time they reached a dried-out colorless playground, she was well on the way to outright anger at his response, or lack thereof. He crossed to the rusted old swingset and sat himself on one of the tiny plastic seats, looking absurd in his pressed suit and with his neat shoes making impressions in the dusty dirt. The swing trembled and gave out a loud squeal of disuse, but Lemony still did not break. After a moment of swinging gently, ridiculously in the silence of the playground, he came to a halt and finally looked up to meet her eyes. He smiled pleasantly, as though he had been waiting there for her for quite some time. 

There were so many things she had wanted to say, so many questions queued up within her mind that had gotten jumbled up in the waiting. It was all too much, not at all what she had expected. All her layered plans and textbook training, her childish excitement and questionable manipulations - it all fell away as she looked at his face, finally and infuriatingly familiar. Beatrice had been clever and brave for too long; she had never planned to cry upon sight of him, had certainly not expected her face to be awash with tears before she even registered that they were forming. Her heart wanted to run to him but her legs would not carry her this last short distance across the sandy playground. Her journey was ended, whether she wanted it or not. She buried her face in her hands and let herself be ten years old again. 

The hands that steadied her were warm, uncertain and hesitant on her shoulders. He reset the neckerchief that had come loose in her haste, and smoothed down the short sleeves of her white wool dress. He pressed a soft handkerchief into her hands so that she could dry herself off and when the time came that she could see clearly again, Beatrice realized he was kneeling before her, smiling even as his own eyes shone with tears. 

"I'm sorry I had to pretend." He said,  "The diner was much too public."

She laughed and sobbed at the same moment, and he smiled at her patiently, and he took her hand and shook it firmly as though congratulating her for completing one of those tests the organization was so fond of. 

"Miss Baudelaire, it is wonderful to meet you at last. I imagine you have quite a story to tell me."

She thought of it all at once, the whole improbable tale, and the memories got mixed up with what she had been told, and she was suddenly unsure of where to begin. The island on which she had been so wretchedly born, the shipwreck she could not quite recall, the long-lost memories of Violet's gentle voice lulling her to sleep - it all seemed so difficult to put into words, but so crucial to tell. The Baudelaires were waiting for her to find them. 

"It's Miss Snicket really," She admitted at length. "I'm sorry for the deception."

He shook his head. "My dear, there is so much deception in the world, and in our lives, whether we are sorry for it or not, and you are responsible for none of it at all."

It was not true, and she knew he didn't believe it either, but she was grateful that he tried to shield her, despite all that she had done to find him, despite all the people in her life who cared nothing for her wellbeing. His words were a deception of their own, but she chose to take them as a comfort. 

The Baudelaires had wanted to shield her from all the horrors and heartaches of the world, even against their better judgements, even knowing she had been a part of it from the very instance of her birth, even as they named her after a tragedy. It had been a comfort to her during the long years of loneliness, to know with utter certainty that she had been loved and protected, even for just a little while. 

Beatrice smiled at her uncle. "I know you're busy, and secretive, and generally like to be left alone, but I need your help. I've waited so long. I have to find them, please."

"It's okay," he said, and though there was very little that was truly okay, Beatrice let herself believe it, even for just a little while. Lemony smiled at his niece and got up to his feet and offered her his hand, which she took with immediate enthusiasm. He led her through the playground, back towards the main streets where they would begin their half-and-half telling of the same sad story, and together attempt to fill in the missing pieces. 


End file.
